


Berkeley

by killerwhaletank



Category: Fake News RPF, Pod Save America (RPF), Pundit & Broadcast Journalist RPF (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-02-28 12:56:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13271895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killerwhaletank/pseuds/killerwhaletank
Summary: College is a trying time for anyone, especially those who think they're ready for it... but aren't.





	1. The First Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hehasbalrogsocks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hehasbalrogsocks/gifts).



Berkeley, California  
19 August 2017

Earbuds in, the Spotify playlist that he’d cultivated all summer playing on a constant loop in his ears, helping to guide him from point A to point B. Jordan stepped from the campus shuttle bus and set foot on campus for the first time in months. He’d gone home to Michigan for the summer, and worked with his dad at their family’s construction supply company. The only thought he’d given to coming back to Berkeley came after he’d gotten confirmation that he would be living in the house, with the rest of his new fraternity brothers, just beyond the boundaries of campus.

It was the middle of Zero Week, a week where Jordan didn’t actually expect to be on campus all that much, yet here he was at ten in the morning, making his way to Zellerbach Hall, where his one and only theater class was being held that semester. The campus wasn’t as abandoned as Jordan believed it would be, save for the numerous tables with students sitting at them and standing around, peddling fliers to try and get other students signed up for clubs and activities. Among these people, however, a handful of bold students who were sunbathing nude among the redwoods that grew on campus. If Jordan learned anything from his freshman year, it was that this was, quite possibly, the only hold-over from Berkeley’s more radical years.

Surprisingly enough, Jordan had some time to kill before class. Rather than hang around with the vegan diet awareness club or the naked sunbathers, Jordan got a coffee from the cart near the center of campus. He sipped at the mud-like coffee, thankful for the caffeine that now coursed through his veins. Over the lid of the cup Jordan spotted a short young man — clad in maroon pants, a baseball cap, and yellow headphones that looked comically large on him — bouncing with each step he took down the concrete path. Jordan didn’t hear, but did see him pull a Diet Coke from the cooler, hand the man at the coffee cart his Cal 1 Card, and pop open the Diet Coke with one hand. He nearly chugged the whole thing in one swig.

And for some reason, it made Jordan smile.

Once inside Zellerbach Hall, Jordan removed his earbuds and slipped them into his pocket. He finished the small coffee and tossed the paper cup into the nearest trash bin, pausing only when he heard the dulcet tones of a piano coming from the main concert hall. Curious, he wandered into the large auditorium and watched the young man, who looked vaguely familiar, play the piano with his eyes closed. Jordan pushed the door closed behind him, so not to interrupt the quiet piano concerto with his cacophonous arrival.

Through the darkness, Jordan narrowed his eyes and watched an older man, who had an Ernest Hemingway vibe to him, walk out onto and across the stage.

“What’re you doing here?” the Hemingway knock-off asked. The young man at the piano continued to play until the natural end of the song, and looked up at the older man with a grin. He said nothing, but slid his hand along the edge of the piano to cup his hand over the older man’s. The older man sighed with a growl that echoed through the auditorium, and pulled his hand away. “Ezra.”

“What,” Ezra hummed, his voice quiet and remarkably calm. Ezra stood from the piano bench and approached the older man, who tried to keep his distance from Ezra. Ezra clucked his tongue, the sound loud enough to echo through the auditorium, “Stevie, c’mon. You’re really going to-“

“Yes, Ezra.” The older man pulled further back, his arms folded tight across his chest. “You’re a student. Not only that, but you’re registered as one of my own students.”

“So?” Ezra asked in response. He shrugged his shoulders. “You’re honestly telling me that you won’t fuck me just because I’m one of your students?” A little snicker escaped from the back of Ezra’s throat. “Again?”

Jordan’s eyes flew open in genuine surprise. Ezra’s words carried through the entire auditorium, and Jordan found himself looking around to see if anyone else was bearing witness to this exchange.

“Ezra.” The older man seemed flushed. His words were stopped by Ezra, sliding his fingers up the older man’s arm. The older man, Stevie as Ezra called him, jerked away, and for a moment Jordan believed that he was about to slap Ezra. But instead of bracing for impact, Ezra rolled his head back and laughed, which started Jordan and only infuriated Stevie. “Ezra. Stop it.”

Ezra rolled his eyes. Again, he reached out to touch Stevie, but this time he was not rejected. This reaction caught Jordan by surprise; after everything that just transpired, all of a sudden the older man was receptive to Ezra’s advances?

Jordan didn’t hear the door open behind him, but he did hear it close, and was little surprised by the sound. “Ugh.” Jordan turned around and looked down, his eyes flying open at the sight of the same short man in maroon pants from the coffee cart standing not one foot from him. Jordan wasn’t sure what to say, or if he should even say anything at all, so he just smiled. He acknowledged that he was standing there, looking disheveled but put together at the same time, with a little nod. The short man rolled his eyes and took a long sip from what had to be another, different Diet Coke. “I cannot believe they’re doing this again.”  
Jordan nodded, as if the comment made perfect sense. Seconds later his eyes were narrowed and again he was looking down at the shorter man. “Wait,” Jordan began. “What?”

The shorter man looked up at Jordan, noting for the first time just how tall he really was. “Um… yeah,” he said, his words slow and calculated. He shook his head, hoping to clear the clouds and fog that started rolling in. “All last year, it was this huge thing in the theater department.” He rolled his eyes. “This bunch is nothing if not dramatic. But it turns out that resident activist Ezra Miller, and popular American theater instructor Stephen Colbert are… allegedly having an affair.”

Jordan’s eyes flew open in genuine surprise. “What- are you kidding?” He cupped a hand over his mouth to keep from shouting. The short man smiled at Jordan’s attempt at not yelling; it was quiet comical with little effort. Jordan turned to the shorter man with genuinely surprised eyes. “Are you kidding me?” he whispered.

“No I’m not!” the short man whispered back, standing on his toes in an attempt to get closer to Jordan. “I-“ He bit back a quiet snicker. “I mean, all I really know is just rumored, but if you watch them it’s pretty obvious.” He let out a little sigh and turned to Jordan. “I’m Jon, by the way. Jon Lovett.”

Jordan nodded, momentarily frozen. “Oh!” He chuckled softly and carded his fingers back through his hair. “Um, Jordan.”

Lovett nodded with a little smile. “Are you in Colbert’s class?”

“Yeah,” Jordan responded. He scratched the back of his neck and sighed. A silence hung between them, and Jordan shuffled from side to side on the balls of his feet.

“Really?” Lovett asked in Jordan’s direction.

Jordan gave his shoulders a little shrug. He gripped both hands around the straps of his backpack, both pulled tight to his shoulders. “Yeah,” he responded. “I mean, I was… I don’t know, it’s always kind of been interesting to me, so I figures what the hell, y’know? College is where you’re supposed to find yourself, so I kind of figured-“

“Yeah I know what you mean,” Lovett said quickly, as if he were purposefully interrupting Jordan. “There’s a reason that kids from the east coast come to California.”

“Is there?” Jordan asked with a little shrug of his shoulders. “Personally I just wanted to be somewhere that doesn’t get a metric fuckton of snow four months out of the year.”

“Connecticut?” Lovett questioned. He’d done a quick read of Jordan and his existence in a single breath; he knew nothing about Jordan but Jon was absolutely okay with making assumptions.

Jordan smirked and slid his fingers back through his hair, the pompadour floof starting to flatten. “Uh, Michigan actually.”

Lovett nodded slowly. “Okay,” he hummed, making a mental note with his single comment. “Not exactly the east coast, but I guess it’s close enough.”

Jordan laughed, but the laughter slowed. “Who… wait, who said anything about the east coast?”

“I… did?” Lovett’s laughter was more sarcastic than anything. He shook his head and readjusted the strap of his trendy laptop messenger bag to rest across his chest. “I said that east coast kids like to come out here to find themselves or some shit like that.” Lovett let out a very soft sigh and rolled his eyes. “You know what? Forget it.” He clapped his hand over Jordan’s shoulder. “I’ll see you up on stage.”

Lovett gave Jordan a smile and something that seemed an awful lot like a wink, before turning and heading down the aisle, making a good bit of noise in the process. He certainly caught Jordan’s attention, but also Ezra’s and their instructor’s as well.

“Well hello, Mr. Lovett,” Colbert said, his voice echoing masterfully from the stage. “I was hoping I’d get to see you this semester.”

“Oh, well you know me,” Lovett returned. “Drama drama drama.” He walked around to the short staircase that led up to the stage. Without saying a word Lovett gave Ezra a short not, getting the same reaction in return. From where he stood at the back of the room Jordan watched the relatively terse exchange and was certainly shocked when Lovett turned in the direction that he was standing. “Oh Jordan!” Lovett called out, snickering under his breath in the process.

Jordan took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He gripped his hands around the straps of his backpack and walked slowly down the aisle. he still had time to back out; still had plenty of time to turn around and unregistered from the class, regardless of how difficult placement in one of Stephen Colbert’s performance classes was. There’s still time, Jordan thought to himself.

“You’re not going to chicken out, are you, Michigan?” Lovett’s voice echoed down the aisle and specifically reached Jordan.

Jordan took another deep breath. His resolve was now firm; he had no choice in the matter now. It was almost as if Jon were taunting him, and there was no way that Jordan would let him get away with that.

Jordan stood on the stage, keeping his gaze focused on Lovett the entire time. Lovett caught the look on Jordan’s face and found himself laughing. Jon’s laughter only further enraged Jordan. But when he turned away he smirked, and could feel his body blush, the tips of his ears burning. Maybe this semester wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

~~~~~

Jordan and Lovett joined Ezra in the seats closer to the stage, and were soon joined by a dozen or so other students, all filing into the auditorium for their first day of class. The stage, however, was empty, save for the piano that Ezra had been playing earlier. Lovett and Jordan kind of shared a look when Colbert reemerged from the backstage area, carrying a metal and plastic chair that looked as though it had been stolen from a high school classroom.

“Well.” Colbert looked out into the small crowd and smiled. “Welcome to Fundamentals of Acting I. For those of you who don’t know who I am, who signed up for this class because you thought a simple theater class would be just that, believe me. You are in for the ride of your life.” Colbert smiled, and then introduced himself. “Now.” He sat the chair on the stage as close to the middle as he could manage, and shifted to stand behind it, hands cupped over the hard blue plastic. “This isn’t really a class session today. No, today I want to get to know you, but I also want you all to get to know one another.” Groans and murmurs vibrated through the crowd. Jordan said nothing, and turned to see Lovett looking at him at the same time.

“Now.” Colbert cleared his throat. “How are we going to do this? Simple. We’re going to play a game that I’m pretty sure you’re all familiar with, call two truths and a lie, except we’re going to make it… a little more difficult. We’re going to switch it around. Two lies, and one truth.” Colbert clapped his hand against the chair and motioned his hand to the rest of the class. Ezra, pressing a finger to his chest, mouthed a pretend surprise and climbed the stairs to be on stage. “Our first contestant is-“

“Ezra Miller.”

“Right,” Colbert began. “Ezra. So here’s how we’re going to do this. Ezra’s going to come up with two lies and truth about himself, and whomever figures out the truth is up next. Sound good?” Ezra sat in the chair, and Colbert clapped his hand over Ezra’s shoulder. “Ready?”

“As ever,” Ezra replied. He turned to look up at Colbert over his shoulder, the smile on his face quite telling. Lovett drew in a deep breath and folded his arms across his chest, slumping down in his chair, legs crossed at the knee. He shook his head and clucked his tongue without so much as a sound. Ezra’s lies came easier than his truth, but eventually his truth was exposed and the next person in the class was up in the chair.

With that infuriating smile, Lovett took the seat and, again, crossed his legs at the knee, cupping both hands over his knee. “Okay. Two lies and a truth. Here goes.” Lovett took a deep breath and looked out into the audience, stopping as if he were specifically trying to bait Jordan. “I’m from Long Island, I graduated from high school at 15, and on the weekends I perform at Club BNB under the name Menorah Boxx. With two x’s.” Laughter erupted in the crowd, and even Jordan had to stifle a laugh before raising his hand.

“You’re from Long Island,” Jordan replied confidently. Without waiting for a reply he stood. “Though, I’ll admit, I’d believe any of those statements as being true.” He hopped up onto the stage without using the stairs, and standing there in the middle of the stage, Jordan felt more relaxed that he had in the longest time. He cleared his throat, and moved to sit in the chair, rubbing his hands against his knees.

Silence filled the auditorium. Jordan’s lies were not coming to him as easily as he’d hoped. He cleared his throat and finally spoke. “Jordan Klepper, from Kalamazoo, Michigan, and…” His eyes scanned the room, and rather than finding Lovett, they found Ezra. The rumor that Lovett had told him, the rumor that Lovett believe to be true, immediately stuck in his mind. “I was suspended in high school for screwing my Italian teacher in a bathroom at the Detroit Institute of Arts.”

Again, silence filled the room. There weren’t many students left who needed to guess, but that didn’t stop the tittering. Within seconds the truth was fished out and Jordan was back in the crowd, sitting right next to Lovett.

“Cute,” Lovett commented. “Do you even speak Italian?”

Jordan shrugged his shoulders. “Afraid not, Menorah Boxx.”


	2. Lovett Tells the Boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After meeting Jordan, Lovett has a little internal conflict that needs dealing with.

Blue Bottle Coffee  
2:19 PM

Jon Favreau’s gap-toothed smile lit up the entire room, and brightened even more when the bells on the coffee shop’s door jingled. “Well it’s about time.”

Tommy looked up from a copy of Killers of the Flower Moon that he’d picked up from the campus bookstore and watched Lovett, their third musketeer, bound into the coffee shop with an irritating smile on his face. Tommy let out a little sigh and returned to his book, acting as though he hadn’t seen Lovett at all. “What with the-“

“Smile?” Lovett interrupted. He stood at the table, both hands pressed to the polished wood, and continued to beam down at both Tommy and Jon. “It’s happiness, Tommy.” He sighed softly. “It’s happiness.”

“Tommy snickered, but it was Jon who spoke. “Happiness,” he commented. “Well that’s new.” He sat back in the table’s only mismatched chair and rubbed his hands against his thighs. “All of a sudden you’re happy. This summer you were nothing but a sulking mess, and now? Now you’re smiling like… I don’t even know.”

Lovett sighed and rolled his eyes. “You just wouldn’t understand, Jon.” With that, and only that statement, Lovett took off his messenger bag and set it on the empty chair at the table. Jon glanced over at Tommy, a curious yet unreadable expression plastered on his face. Tommy glanced up at Jon and gave his shoulders the slightest shrug before returning to his book, taking a sip of his own New Orleans-style iced coffee.

“What do you suppose-“

Tommy took another sip from the bright blue straw and gazed over the top of his book at Jon. “Don’t,” he commented, all but ordering in his calm voice. Again Jon started to speak but Tommy interrupted him. “Lovett isn’t happy without a little drama in his life. So let him have a little happiness. If it means having to put up with a little Lovett drama, let’s, y’know, let’s just live with it.” Tommy sighed and went back to his book, but continued to talk to Jon. “Or were you not here when he spent two weeks on our couch while Ronan was in Russia.”

Jon paused for a long moment. “I thought he was in Croatia this summer,” he remembered.

Tommy shrugged his shoulders. “Wherever in eastern Europe he was,” he continued. “The point? Lovett didn’t leave the couch. At all. Even when we decided to try that poke place over in the Castro district that he was dying to try all summer long. He didn’t even flinch!”

“I remember,” Jon said with a little nod.

“That place was really good, too,” Tommy commented. “He didn’t even touch the doggie bag we brought him!”

“I… remember,” Jon grumbled, repeating himself as if Tommy hadn’t heard him.

Tommy paused for a long moment himself, taking another sip of his coffee. “It was really good. Better than I thought it would be, that’s for sure. I don’t see what all the fuss is, but-“

“Tom!” Jon’s elevated voice grabbed Tommy’s attention. Jon shook his head. “I… I get it, Tom.” He reached out and gave Tommy’s shoulder a squeeze. Jon folded his hands on the table in front of him and sighed. “It worries me, that’s all. It worried me then, and it worries me a little bit now. He looked around to see Lovett carrying a steaming mug with at least two tea bags hanging in the mug.

And Lovett was still smiling.

“I just… don’t want anymore Ronan drama,” Jon almost whispered.

Tommy scoffed. “Fat fucking chance,” he grumbled under his breath. “It’s all Ronan drama, Favs.”

Jon took Lovett’s bag from the chair, allowing him to sit when he walked over to the table. Lovett smiled and nodded a quiet thank you at Jon, and set the mug and its mismatched saucer on the table. He sat and scooted the chair closer to the table. He brought the mug to his lips and took a small sip, pausing only when he noticed that both Jon and Tommy were staring at him. Lovett set the mug back down and cleared his throat. “Okay,” he said slowly. “What’s up?”

“What?” Tommy asked in return.

Jon snickered. “What makes you think something’s up?”

Lovett smiled and gave his shoulders a slight shrug. “Nothing,” he whispered. “Nothing at all. I mean, you two are acting weird, even for you, but.” He took another sip of his hot tea.

Now Jon was genuinely curious. “Okay,” he slowly returned. “What the hell is going on with you.”  
Lovett looked back at Jon, his eyes narrowed. “What’re you talking about?”

Jon turned to Tommy as if he were looking for some kind of moral support, but Tommy was thoroughly uninterested in this conversation as a whole. Jon took another sip of his coffee drink and folded his hands around the sweating plastic to-go cup. “Are…” Jon paused and cleared his throat. “Are you still taking your medication?”

“Favs,” Tommy chimed. The question was not an uncommon one in their circle, but still Lovett was taken completely by surprise.

Lovett nearly slammed the mug back down on the table, the saucer shaking in the process. “Yes,” he snapped. He glared at Jon, leaning back in the chair with his arms folded tight across his chest. “And thank you for the vote of confidence on that, Favreau. But yes, as a matter of fact, I am.” Lovett’s sass quickly dissipated. “Ronan’s pretty… insistent about that.”

It was the mention of Ronan that grabbed both Jon and Tommy’s attention. They gazed at each other with a shared sideways glance. Jon cleared his throat. “How… I mean, define insistent.” It wasn’t accusatory, but rather genuinely curious. Jon was always genuinely curious when it came to Lovett’s life.

“Insistent,” Lovett returned with a little nod. He cupped both hands around his mug and shrugged his shoulders. “We… all know what happens when I’m not… regularly on them.”

“Yeah,” Jon and Tommy exhaled in almost perfect unison; a little reaction that thoroughly irritated Lovett. He wasn’t looking for that kind of validation, that his problems did not go undetected, especially by his friends.

“Right. Well.” Lovett cleared his throat gently. “Ronan’s got a lot going on school wise, and he and I both kind of agreed that I… needed to start taking better care of myself.” He shrugged his shoulders again, and brought the mug of tea back to his lips.

It took Tommy a full heartbeat to respond. “So, does… that mean you’ll start going to the gym with us again?” All three laughed, yet Tommy got no answer. He really posed the question simply to lighten the tension. He snickered softly. “So what’s with the smile?” Tommy slipped the receipt from the bookstore between the book’s pages and finally closed it, his attention now fully on Lovett. He folded his arms against the table and gave his shoulders a gentle shrug. “Ronan finally give up his cargo shorts for something a little more grown up?”

Lovett raised an eyebrow. He glanced at Tommy’s outfit — dark khaki pants and a burgundy T-shirt, with a pair of grey, worn-out Nike running sneakers laced to his feet — and then immediately met Tommy’s eye again. “Oh if it were true,” Lovett said under his breath. “But no.” He cleared his throat. “No I just had a very pleasant experience with a nice young man who may or may not be struggling with his own sexuality at this moment-“

Jon nearly spit out his own cold brew. “Oh god,” he groaned. “Lovett, you didn’t randomly hook up with someone… on campus, did you?” Lovett glared at Jon, who also received a look from Tommy as well. He sipped his coffee loudly, but said nothing else.

Lovett rolled his eyes. “Typical heteronormative response,” he commented. “Do you think gay people just go around fucking everything that isn’t nailed down? Is that a thought that actually goes through your head on a daily basis, Jon?”

“No!” Jon responded, though it sounded more like a question than a response. “No, but the way that you sometimes conduct yourself personally is-“

Tommy quickly stuck his hand out, as if he could physically stop the words. “So you had… some kind of experience with some kid?” he interrupted, desperate to keep the situation between the Jons from escalating any further.

Lovett took a breath, in essence calming himself down. He took another sip from his tea. “He’s a kid in my performance class,” he started. “Jordan… something, I think. Seemed like an okay kid for someone from Michigan. A little… less confident that I’d like, but-“

“Than you’d like?” Tommy chuckled. “Oh lord.”

Jon took another sip of coffee and made eye contact with Tommy. “Oh Christ, here we go again.”

“What?” Lovett sat back in his chair, though he was not on the full defensive yet. Both of his friends, however, knew it would be coming.

“Nothing,” Jon and Tommy said in practiced unison, their voices both calm and collected, and not accusatory by any sense of the word.

“Nothing?” Lovett paused on the single-word response for several seconds before it occurred to him just what his friends were getting at. He sucked his teeth and folded his arms across his chest. “You know, I can just have friends,” he began to explain. “It’s possible. I mean, look at the two of you. I keep you two around, yet there’s absolutely no physical attraction to either one of you.” Jon shot Lovett a look, a look that he received right back, and they both sighed.

“Well, I suppose that’s true,” Tommy responded cluelessly.

“So.” Lovett stuck his tongue out and settled back in the chair, feeling quite pleased with himself. “So, yeah. There’s definitely-“

“Is he cute?” It was an odd question coming form Jon, and it caught both Tommy and Lovett by surprise.  
Lovett shrugged. “Um, a little bit,” he replied quickly. “He’s got eyes like Ronan’s, but he’s definitely a ginger.” Lovett closed his eyes and shook his head. “Wait a second. Why does that even matter?”

“It doesn’t,” Jon replied.

“Not even a little bit,” Tommy chimed in. Without saying another word he opened his book back up and continued to read.

Lovett exhaled sharply and rolled his eyes. “Jerks,” he commented. He shook his head and stood from the table. “That’s what you guys are. You’re jerks. Jealous, bitter jerks.”

“Jealous and bitter?” Jon questioned in return. “I mean, okay. I can sort of see jealous. But bitter?”

“And lonely,” Lovett said, responding to a comment that was only in his head. “Jealous, bitter, and lonely. And it’s sad, gentlemen.” He grabbed his messenger bag from the floor where it had been rested before and draped the strap across his chest. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and let out a little sigh. “It’s just really… really sad.”

Both Jon and Tommy watched Lovett pick his tea up from the table, taking one last long sip, and with both eyebrows raised he turned on the balls of his feet and walked out of the cafe’. He would spend another five minutes standing on the sidewalk, scrolling through his Twitter feed until he turned and head south toward the upscale apartment building where he lived off campus with his boyfriend.

At least, Lovett thought that Ronan was his boyfriend. He wasn’t sure just how mutual that feeling was.

~~~~~

The Dwight  
Apartment 6G

The doorman sat at the desk in the lobby, paging through the latest copy of Architectural Digest that someone had left behind with the day’s mail. He glanced over the top of the magazine when the electronic lock on the building’s front door clicked, and Lovett breezed through and into the airy lobby. They shared a looked and Lovett gave the doorman a little nod, but the doorman didn’t give Lovett a second thought.

The apartment was on the top floor, with windows all around looking out over the city. There were times where Lovett felt like the view was actually distracting, but on a day like this, when his mind was already racing, it was perfect. Stepping inside, Lovett took a deep breath, taking in the scent of incense burning on the fat end of the open dining room. It was a mix of balsam and cherry wood, making the apartment smell far more manly than Lovett would have wanted, but Ronan liked it.

And since it was Ronan’s apartment, Lovett had no problem in conceding this point.

Lovett pushed the door closed behind him, and was taken a little by surprise by the silence in the apartment. Usually there was the drone of whatever news program Ronan had on for background noise, or the sound of music coming from the wireless speaker system. But the apartment was filled with a silence that Lovett was not used to.

With a little sigh Lovett took off his sneakers and lounged on the couch, trying to get used to the sound of nothing happening around him. He closed his eyes, just for a moment, and had no idea how much time passed before he felt something jump onto his chest, jostling him immediately. Pundit, the six-month-old golden doodle whose presence was missed when Lovett got home, yipped and licked Lovett’s face, her tail wagging a mile a minute. “Awww, there you are, lovey dovey!” She yipped again and Lovett scratched the top of Pundit’s head.  
Lovett looked across the living room to see Ronan toeing off his sneakers, Pundit’s collar and leash still in his hand. “You’re home,” Ronan said, his voice rather surprised.

“Yeah,” Lovett said in return. He sat up when Pundit let him, but kept the dog in his lap, scratching her ears and letting her continue to shower him with kisses. “I didn’t really want to… to hang out on campus, so I had coffee with the guys are Blue Bottle and came home.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Didn’t expect you not to be home, though.”

“I… was walking Pundit.” Ronan looked over at Lovett and scoffed, as if the answer to his whereabouts was the easiest conclusion to draw. “Why. Where did you think I was?”

The color drained from Lovett’s face. He knew what Ronan was accusing him of without saying a word. Pundit circled her favorite throw pillow before sitting with her head down on it. Lovett pulled his legs up under him and reached over to give Pundit’s head a scratch. “Nowhere,” he finally said. He cleared his throat just to be a little louder. “Nowhere, Ronan. I didn’t think you were anywhere.”

“Nowhere?” Ronan chuckled and when he finally looked at Lovett he smirked and watched Lovett curl up into a tight little ball. He stepped around the couch and bent down to press a quick kiss to the top of Lovett’s head. “Nowhere… at all?”

“No,” Lovett responded, with just a bit more confidence. “I didn’t even really think about the fact that you weren’t around. I’m more angry that I didn’t notice that Pundit wasn’t around.”

Though it wasn’t official, Lovett always thought of Pundit as his own therapy dog. Every time he felt an episode coming on, Pundit would be there to give him something or someone to cling to, to hang onto to keep from falling completely over the edge. Lovett smiled sweetly and turned to scratch the top of Pundit’s head once more.

Lovett looked up from the dog to watch Ronan slip into the kitchen and pull a can of Diet Coke from the fridge. He took a long sip, catching Lovett’s attention for only a moment before disappearing into the second bedroom they both used as an office.

Lovett glanced to Pundit, who leaned up and licked his hand, before he got up from the couch and wandered into the room where Ronan already sat at his desk with a giant book of United States Supreme Court decisions open in front of him, highlighter in his hand, eyes focused on the text.

At 17, Ronan was already in his second year of law school, having graduated with his bachelor’s in philosophy only two years prior. And though law school hadn’t always been his future goal, it seemed like a viable option for someone of his particular background. He was a genius, and with that came very little understanding of society in general. And Lovett fell for him; regardless of how weird it may have been for him to be in a relationship with a minor. Lovett fell for him and the fact that he was just as smug and sass. In Ronan, Lovett felt that he met his match.

Lovett sighed softly and leaned against the door jamb, looking down when Pundit walked up and sat beside him. “So I had fun today,” he started to say.

“Oh?” Ronan didn’t even look up from his book.

Lovett was a little angered by the number of people who’d chosen to ignore him by reading on this particular day. He sighed, and with a little roll of his eyes he continued, though he was absolutely sure that Ronan wasn’t paying any attention to him. “Yeah,” Lovett began to say. He pushed his hands into his thigh pockets and let out an unnecessarily deep breath for dramatic effect. “Yeah it was… pretty much exactly what I expected.” The corners of Lovett’s mouth curled up into a smile, a telling one if Ronan had looked at him. “Except for Jordan.”

“Oh?” Ronan questioned again, and again he didn’t look up from his law book.

“Yeah,” Lovett responded, a dreamy tone to his voice. “Definitely… definitely not what I expected at all.” He glanced at Ronan, still completely clueless as to Lovett’s body language. “Taller than you, with the same bright blue eyes. He’s a ginger, but that can be fixed.”  
It took Ronan three seconds to fully comprehend what Lovett was telling him. He dropped his highlighter into the fold of the book and looked up at Lovett. “What?”  
Lovett shrugged his shoulders and giggled. “That got your attention.”

And got me a little riled-“ Ronan snickered at Lovett and slowly stood from the desk. The smile on his face was not a pleasant one, and was certainly a look that Lovett understood. All of the fun drained from Lovett’s entire body. Ronan stepped away from the desk, walking to where Lovett stood against the door jamb. “But something tells me… that’s kind of what you were going for.”

Lovett swallowed hard. The last thing he wanted was to make Ronan mad. Tease him, sure. But never make him angry.

Ronan could be mean, mostly without even realizing it.

“N-no,” Lovett finally whispered, his voice breaking in the process. “No, of… of course I didn’t want to get you all riled up. Especially when I know you have a ton of work to do.”

Laughing softly, Ronan gently took Lovett’s hand and squeezed. Ronan was never one for any type of public displays of affection, but in the privacy of their own apartment he had no problem being affectionate.

When it suited him, of course.

Lovett laughed softly in return and tried hard not to flinch when Ronan kissed his cheek. He went back to sit at the desk and Lovett let out a little sigh, leaving the room to try and figure out what they should order for dinner.


	3. The Theater Class

Jordan was running late. He’d slept through his alarm and missed the campus shuttle, and knew that the second he walked into class, Professor Colbert would no doubt mock him openly. Though the teasing would bother him, Jordan didn’t mind. He knew that it was better to be teased than to be ignored; it meant that he was actually part of the class, and not just an outlier. And much to his own surprise, Jordan was genuinely enjoying this class.

The last thing he wanted to do was fall out of Professor Colbert’s good graces. Jordan heard all of the rumors about Colbert and his difficulty as an instructor. Jordan wasn’t interested in complicating his life needlessly.

The practice space they held class in was silent before Jordan came crashing through the door. The thick steel door hit the wall with a resounding thud, which still echoed as Jordan stumbled over his own two feet, winded from having to run clear across campus just to get there.

The class jumped as a collective when Jordan entered the room. The whole class was laying on the floor, in the middle of the breathing/centering session that Professor Colbert always started with. Professor Colbert at Jordan from over his glasses. “With that kind of entrance, Mr. Klepper, I thought this was a raid.”

Jordan dropped his bag in the corner where everyone else left their things, toed off his sneakers and found a spot on the floor large enough to accommodate his frame. Though they were quiet about it, the class chuckled at Professor Colbert’s comment but mostly snickered at Jordan.

Lovett was the only one who sat up and took notice.

Colbert led the class from their breathing/center exercise into a guided meditation, which involved deep breathing and placing yourself in various positions, relaxing every single muscle one by one. By the time they were done, Lovett felt soft and noodle-like, but Jordan wasn’t nearly as relaxed. Colbert gave the class a few minutes to collect themselves and regroup.

A boy who only talked about how badly he wished he’d gotten into UCLA had fallen dead asleep, prompting a number of giggles from his classmates when he started to snore.

Jordan sat and kind of folded himself into a pretzel, stretching his arms up over his head and fluffing his hair in the process. He looked over at Lovett, sitting up and learning against the wall, strapping his arms around his shins. Lovett stretched his shoulder muscled and turned his face up to Colbert, who started to explain their new project. Up until this point they’d done mostly unscripted work, improv and pantomime for the first part. But now they were going to be given sections of a play to stage with a partner.

And Colbert would be assigning the partners.

Jordan’s attention was divided at best. He was listening to Colbert describe their project, his eyes darting around the room as if he were trying to signal to the professor who he did and did not want to work with.  
“Okay,” Colbert began. “Now for the… assignments.” He adjusted his glasses. “Jordan Klepper and Jonathan… it’s Jon, right? Jon Lovett.” He looked at both of them. “Gentlemen, for you it will be “The Odd Couple by Neil Simon. Act II, Sen I, ending with the line ‘The girls will be crazy about it.’”

Lovett looked at Jordan, whose expression was unreadable. Jordan scoffed silently and looked back at Lovett, trying to decipher what was going on inside Lovett’s head at that particular moment. “That sounds… okay by me,” Jordan commented, as if he had a choice. Besides, Lovett was the one person in class that he felt connected to, as if they had an instant connection.

But while Jordan was trying to figure Lovett out, Lovett already had the course reader out, which had pieces and parts of the scripts that they would be using for class printed in it. He found the scene and looked it over, and immediately his hand was raised. “Does it matter who is who?”

“You two can figure it out,” Colbert replied. “Maybe read both and see what you settle into.”

Jordan gave Lovett a look, and when Colbert walked off, he inched over to Lovett without getting up from where he sat. “The Odd Couple,” Jordan began. “That… that’s Felix and Oscar, right?”

Colbert reminded the class that this was to be fully staged, costumed and blocked right there in their little black box classroom, but Lovett wasn’t paying attention to anything but Jordan’s question. “Yeah,” he replied. “Like the old TV show. Have you ever seen the play?”

“No,” Jordan said with a loud sigh. He slid his fingers back through his hair. “Which is weird because it’s like one of those old standards, right?”

“Yeah it’s fun,” Lovett continued. “I saw an all-female version of it. Here, actually. Colbert directed it.”

Jordan’s eyes went wide at that. He scoffed and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “We’re fucked,” he said through another laugh.

“Nah, we’re going to be fine.” Lovett opened the planner, and the handful of multi-colored Sharpie pens he always carried along with it fell to the floor beside it. “So. When’re you free?” Lovett asked without looking up from the planner.

Jordan looked at Lovett and his planner in amazement; he couldn’t be this organized if someone sat him down and taught him how to do it. “Well.” He pulled out his phone and scrolled through to his calendar. “Most evenings, actually. Maybe… tomorrow night?”

Lovett nodded, paging through the planner to the correct section and identifying a time after when, like clockwork, he always had dinner. “That looks good to me. Do… you live on campus?”

“No,” Jordan said quickly. “No, I live… in a house that’s just off campus.” He immediately stopped short of saying that he was in a fraternity and lived in the house with some of his brothers. “You?”

“I live off campus,” Lovett returned without adding anymore detail. Jordan didn’t have to know the entire situation with Ronan, not by a long shot. “But I have a meal plan because I’m a horrible cook. I do have some time after dinner tomorrow, if… is there a space where you live where we can work, or should we figure something else out? Maybe in one of the parking structures?”

“The… parking structures?” Jordan asked curiously. He scratched the back of his neck and looked from the planner on the floor up at Lovett. “That’s… sort of clandestine, don’t you think?” Jordan looked around at their surroundings. “Can’t we just do it here? I’m sure there’s a studio we can borrow. Or practice time we can sign up for. Or a random classroom. Actually, I may be able to get us a room… somewhere on campus. I know a guy.” He winked and sort of clicked his tongue, as if he were trying to be cute.

Lovett nodded softly. “The parking structures are where a lot of the dance crews rehearse, so I figured if it’s good enough for them…” Lovett tapped the purple pen in his fingers against the planner. “I didn’t suggest the studios because they’re usually booked, but since you know a guy…”

“Yeah, it’s no problem,” Jordan said with a nod. In the back of his mind, Jordan was trying to figure out how in the hell he was going to pull this off. He unlocked his phone and handed it to Lovett. “Gonna need a number.”  
Lovett tapped his number into Jordan’s phone and handed it back. He pulled out his own phone and Jordan sent a text message to the new contact, and sort of swept his thumb across the top of the screen. Lovett replied with a simple emoji. “Okay, so I will… see you around 7:30? Just text me where.”

Jordan licked his lips and nodded. “Yeah, of course!” he replied. “Don’t want to send you on some wild goose chase to find me, right?”

Lovett smiled a little. “Yeah, I’d kill you,” he deadpanned, eyebrows lifted toward his mop of curls. Jordan sat there, one eyebrow raised, a little curious about just how serious Lovett was with his flat expression.

“What are you doing?” Colbert asked, in an attempt to quickly grab the class’ attention without having to act more like a teacher. It was an improv game that Jordan was familiar with, and he got to his feet to join the class in a circle. Lovett jumped to his own fee and became the first volunteer, standing in the middle of the circle. Lovett was eventually tagged out, which always took a while for Lovett, before Jordan got a chance to play.

Lovett watched Jordan with marked curiosity. After all, he needed to size up his partner. He watched Jordan for Just a moment, giggling at the sight of him pretending to be the star of a bikini car wash.

The next game, another improv game known as Boris, was set up when Colbert put a metal chair in the middle of the circle. “Okay, Klepper,” Colbert began, crooking a finger to bring Jordan closer. “You’re up.” Jordan was a little nervous when called on to sit in that chair, but that nervousness disappeared when he saw Lovett happily volunteer to be the first interrogator.

Jordan tried very hard not to smile; he loved how excited Lovett got about everything. He smiled up at Lovett, but tried not to smile during the exercise. Lovett, seizing the opportunity, used the smile in the exercise. “Boris, wipe that smile off his face!” The smile kind of vanished from Jordan’s face when he realized what was going to happen, but not before their Boris mock slapped Jordan across the face. Jordan immediately fell out of the chair and rolled away, lying there for a second before crawling, pretending to be hurt, back to the chair. Again he looked at Lovett, trying not to smile.

They went through the rest of the scene before Colbert called it and switched Jordan and Lovett out for another pair. Lovett was genuinely impressed, and thought that this pair would work wonderfully for their project.

~~~~~

2723 Channing Way  
Berkeley, California

Try as he might to get a classroom for them to rehearse in on campus, Jordan finally broke down and texted Lovett the address to the house. It wasn’t that Jordan was embarrassed by the house itself, but rather he was a little worried that Lovett would judge him for the fact that he was in a fraternity. Sure, he wore that proudly, but Lovett didn’t seem like the sort of fellow would be impressed by such things. Or, impressed easily, for that matter.

When Lovett got Jordan’s address, he blinked in disbelief at the fact that it was one of the frat houses. He steeled himself and made his way to the other side of campus, pulling his electric scooter into a driveway packed with cars. Lovett wasn’t sure of the proper protocol in this particular situation, and just texted Jordan when he was at the door, standing awkwardly on the porch.

Jordan ran down the stairs and pulled the door open, again a little winded from running. The outside of the house was in much worse shape than the inside, which was being prepared for a private event that weekend. “Hey. C’mon in.”

Lovett looked him over, in a ragged pair of sweats and a very basic Berkeley T-shirt. “I… really didn’t peg you as a frat boy,” he said as he crossed the threshold. This was the first time that Lovett had ever been in a frat house, in any capacity.

“Really? That… that’s actually kind of refreshing, for some reason,” Jordan replied with a smile. “People I’ve met on campus just… automatically assume it.”

Lovett shrugged. “You aren’t wearing your letters so big they can be seen from space, not to mention you take theater classes. That’s a huge departure from the pre-businesses classes most bros take, my dude.”

Jordan couldn’t help but laugh at Lovett’s stereotypical take on the typical frat boy speak. He continued to snicker, realizing that Lovett’s stereotype really did describe a number of his brothers. “We’re not… all that bad,” Jordan commented with a little nod.

“I’d like to think that’s true, but my personal experience is kind of running up against your thoughts on the matter,” Lovett said with a shrug. “Time will tell.”

Jordan grimaced; part of him wanted to know what kind of experience Lovett had with frat boys. But instead of asking he just shook his head and folded his arms. “I guess it will,” he smirked. “I hope you don’t think I’m like that.”

“Well I didn’t think you were a frat boy to begin with, so there’s that,” Lovett nodded. With a nod of his own Jordan guided them through the open spaces on the first floor of the house to a smaller, unoccupied den.

“We’re not all Neanderthals,” Jordan commented with a little nod. “Some of the guys are in the band, and use this space for practice.” Jordan flicked on the light and revealed that at the far corner of the room was a full drum kit all set up and a trombone on a stand. Pushed against the wall was an upright piano.

Lovett smiled at that. “Charming.” He didn’t sat it meanly. He turned to Jordan and looked up at him. “Do you know which part you want or do you want to just try stuff out?”

“Um-“ Jordan sat on the drum kit’s stool and sighed. He hadn’t read the scene, not seriously, and was a little perplexed by the whole thing. “Let’s just… read it for now. We’ll figure it out as we go, yeah?”

Lovett nodded and pulled out his reader to the page that was already tabbed. “How about we read it twice and swap parts?” Lovett sat on the piano bench, but never once took his eyes off of Jordan.

Jordan nodded, and was a little hesitant to start. He read through the scene and chuckled; laughing at himself was something he did often, and was unaware of doing at all. “I’m sorry,” he began. “But this… this is just weird to me.”

Lovett’s glasses were low on his nose and he looked at Jordan over the top of them. “What’s weird about it?” he asked with a low, flat tone of voice.

Jordan, assuming he was about to often his scene partner, tried to walk back his statement and his tone. “What? No! No, it… I don’t know, it just feels weird performing someone else’s words, that’s all.” Jordan laughed softly, but it was a nervous sound.

Lovett flicked the corner of his page back and forth with the tip of his finger. “I’m thinking back to your intro on the first day. Not the lie thing, but the more serious one. It was just… comedy sportz for you, right? No regular acting to speak of, or do I have that wrong?”

Jordan was a little impressed and certainly a little shocked. Why would Lovett commit that to memory? Or, for that matter, commit anything about Jordan to memory? “Uh… yeah,” he said with a short laugh. “Yeah, that’s about it for me. You’ve got me pegged, at least in that department.”

Lovett pressed his lips together to stifle a smile, a laugh, a quip. “You’re good at improv,” he continued, his silent chuckle still noticeable in his voice. “Scene work can be a rough transition.” He continued flicking the page, this time a little harder than before.

“Well.” Jordan took a deep breath and looked up at Lovett from the pages in his hand. “I guess we’ll see if I can make the grade or not.” He noticed the little smile on Lovett’s face, but wasn’t sure where it was from.

“Let’s switch roles,” Lovett said, as he cleared his throat and smiled at Jordan. Lovett was very at ease in this context, and watched Jordan as they read. His hair moved when he talked. Lovett’s eyes were glued to it.

On the second time through the scene Jordan felt more comfortable with it. He even got up and started walking around, as if he were already trying to stage the scene between them. It was only toward the end that Jordan noticed Lovett staring at him, his dark eyes following his every single move. “W-what.”

“Nothing,” Lovett replied. But Lovett was staring at was the situation as a whole; the way Jordan’s lanky body created a springy physicality, and the way certain parts of him seemed to follow as an afterthought. “Nothing, I’m just… nothing.”

“You… you’re sure.” Jordan paused and looked down at himself; he was positive he looked so utterly ridiculous in comparison to everyone else on the planet, and knew deep in the back of his mind exactly what Lovett was staring at. He was remarkably self-conscious in this respect.

“Yes,” Lovett said nonchalantly. “I’m just watching you, that’s all.”

Jordan chuckled at that, and followed with an out-of-character comment. “Do you… like what you see?” Sure, it sounded like he was flirting, but did he believe that he was actually flirting? Not a bit.

Lovett pursed his lips, his eyes giving Jordan another once-over. “I wasn’t… mad that you were my partner,” he replied after a few inscrutable moments.

Jordan couldn’t help but blush. “Well I am very… very happy that you were mind,” he said with a smile. “There are… well… most of the kids in that class I just don’t get. And I’m… I’m pretty sure they don’t get me, either.” He let out a little sigh, but still he smiled.

“And you feel like I get you?” Lovett sounded a little surprised over this. Jordan was interesting to him. The university prioritized people from California, and so he was always charmed to meet others from out of town who had experienced four seasons, for whom the mild winters and delated falls were just a little bit maddening. Jordan and Lovett were both aware of a world outside of the city limits, beyond the mountains and the plains. Just thinking about that made Lovett smile a little bit.

Jordan gave his shoulders a little shrug and he sat on the floor, folding his legs under him. “A little bit, yeah,” he replied honestly. He scratched the back of his neck and looked up at Lovett from the floor, his hair bouncing as he moved. “That first day we met I felt… I don’t know, I just… felt a connection, but.” Jordan laughed at himself. “Never mind. I’m babbling.”

“You felt a connection,” Lovett continued, ignoring Jordan’s last comment, his eyebrows up. “With me?” He fought a smile, afraid that Jordan would think he was teasing.

Jordan was quiet for a second but gave his shoulders another shrug. “Sure,” he said after that second of silence. He blushed. “I… you probably didn’t feel that, though.” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m an idiot, aren’t I. You can say it, it’s okay.”

Lovett tilted his head to the side, like a puppy when someone whistled. “I didn’t say anything like that, nor was I going to,” he replied. “Actually, I was just thinking of how interesting you are. Kids here barely know what the world is like outside of California. I-“ Lovett snickered. “I loathe them, really. It must be how the rest of the world feels when they look at Americans.”

Jordan clucked his tongue softly. “Well, I… I mean, I don’t know, you can’t… fault them for not knowing what life is like outside of California. I barely got out of Michigan myself, save for the occasional family vacation to Disney.” He closed his eyes and snickered. “But I guess that’s what everyone else knows, too.”

Lovett looked at Jordan and smiled in a strange way - the way someone looked at something unexpected. “You’re clearly a lot nicer than I am,” he said with a slight tilt of his head.

Jordan’s eyes kind of narrowed at that. “Is… is that true?” The truth was, Jordan knew nothing of Lovett outside of their theater class. And in class, it was difficult to really get to know someone; they were more or less acting the entire time.

“I think so.” Lovett paused and squished his lips to one side. “Yes. It’s very true.”

“It-“ Jordan scoffed quietly and scratched the back of his neck. “It occurs to me that I know… very little about you, and really shouldn’t let you make that judgement just yet.”

Lovett put his book down and placed his hands in his lap, doing a little shrug gesture that involved his entire body. “What do you want to know?” he asked without hesitation.

Jordan smiled and scoffed quietly at the same time. “You know, the… last time I had this conversation it was with my girlfriend and a bottle of wine was involved.”

Lovett didn’t mean for his eyebrows to lift into his hairline, but there they were. The mention of Jordan’s girlfriend took all of the wind out of Lovett’s sails. “Your… girlfriend?”

Jordan shrugged. “Yeah, back… back home, I guess.” He rubbed the back of his neck and looked away from Lovett. “What about you?”

“I… don’t have a girlfriend,” Lovett said with a nod.  
“Oh.” Jordan cleared his throat and again he scratched the back of his neck. “Are you, um, seeing… anyone?”  
“I’m… it’s…” Lovett thought back to the last encounter he’d had with Ronan and out of pure spite he replied, “That’s debatable.”

Lovett was surprised when Jordan nodded, as if his spiteful comment explained everything. “So there’s… no one who would mind you maybe, possibly…” At that very moment, Jordan more or less hated himself. Why the hell was he being more awkward than usual? “It’s just that I haven’t had any dinner, and I’m kind of starving, and was wondering if you would be down for some… tacos or something?”

Lovett nodded. “I love tacos,” he responded. “There would be no objections to me going to dinner with you, no.”

“Great!” Jordan exclaimed with a grin. He slapped both hands against his knees and stood, snatching the papers that fell from his lap in the process.

Lovett tucked his reader into his backpack and slung it onto his shoulders. When he opened the door a light-skinned black boy was bracketed in the doorway, wearing a huge, dimply smile. “Did I hear you were going to get tacos?” He had an accent, and Lovett took a step back, quickly trying to place the accent.

Jordan raised an eyebrow and couldn’t help but laugh. “El Jefe! How… the hell did you hear me talking about tacos?”

“Do you think for a moment that I don’t know what’s going on in this house?” He smiled. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Trevor Noah,” he said to Lovett. Lovett’s thumbs were tucked behind the straps of his backpack, and he freed one to shake Trevor’s hand. He was in the middle of thinking that was probably weird and fratty broskis with wonky accents didn’t shake hands, when Trevor’s showed up in his.

Jordan kind of blushed. “Trevor, this is Jon. Lovett.” He cleared his throat. “He’s in my performance class. We were just… rehearsing a little scene and I got a craving for tacos, so I was thinking… Tacos Sinaloa?” He nodded for emphasis, as if it sounded good for the whole group.  
Lovett nodded, still a little preoccupied with Trevor. He breathed in and let it out slowly. “Lead the way, gentlemen.”

Jordan tried to duck, to hide the blush that was growing in his cheeks. He followed Trevor but let Lovett walk ahead of him. Tacos Sinaloa was within walking distance of the frat house, and therefore kind of a favorite not only of their own brothers, but brothers from all of the houses. Fortunately, none of them were in the restaurant on this particular evening. In fact, only one other elderly couple were sitting in the restaurant when they entered. Trevor had some fancy bro-tastic slap up with the kid at the register. Lovett rolled his eyes and kept them up at the ceiling. Jordan stuffed his hands into his pockets, and with a little sigh he shook his head at Trevor. While they were chatting the older woman behind the counter tried to take their order. Jordan ordered a platter of pork tacos. Trevor, being the most worldly of all of them, ordered seven tacos, a beans, rice, and cheese burrito, and a side order of beans and rice, with some fresh chips and even fresher guacamole, and an enormous melon agua fresca. Lovett, intimidated by the fact that Trevor very skillfully rattled off an order large enough for his entire family, just got himself a beef burrito.

Jordan looked at Lovett and shrugged his shoulders. “I can never… I have no idea where Trevor hides all of that food.”

Trevor looked dramatically over his shoulder and shook his ass in an even more dramatic fashion. “Right here, baby!”

“It-“ Jordan scoffed and blushed a dark red. “I mean, it… it’s not entirely accurate, you do have a… a-a lot going on back there.” He cleared his throat and continued, mumbling. “Not that I’ve been looking.” Lovett snorted at Jordan’s response. He watched Jordan stare at Trevor’s backside for longer, he thought, than Jordan even realized he was going. Trevor faced forward, eventually, and broke the spell. Jordan and Lovett both kind of stood straight at the same time, both of them gawking at the same thing at the same time. Jordan looked at Lovett and sort of laughed, a nervous sound.

Trevor looked between both of them with an expression that Lovett couldn’t quite read. “Thanks, fellas, for allowing me to tag along,” he announced, tearing through the heavy silence.

Lovett snorted. “No one asked.”

Trevor looked to Lovett for a moment. The words hung in the air for a moment and then Trevor laughed. “You’re absolutely right,” he replied. “I absolutely invited myself on this taco finding mission. You’re being a very good sport.”

Jordan kind of sat back, tearing at the chips that came with his tacos, smiling at Trevor and Lovett together. This was good, Jordan thought to himself. His best friend and… his only friend in class seemed to be getting along. But Jordan’s gaze seemed to linger on Lovett. “Well, I… I mean, I’m… glad you tagged along,” he said with a little nod.

“I am too,” Trevor replied, as he scooped some fresh guacamole onto a warm, oily chip. It was clearly fresh. Lovett took one from Jordan’s plate and dowsed it in salt.

The rest of the meal continued much like that, along with awkward conversation and a number of strange glances. They all ordered a drink for the road and walked back to the house. Trevor smiled and gave Lovett a little nod, and quietly wished him good night before disappearing back into the house. Jordan paused out on the front porch and let out a little breath in the process. He laced his fingers together at the back of his neck, kind of turning his back to Lovett. “Sorry about that,” he said after a few seconds of silence.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Lovett said with a slow nod. “Trevor is relentlessly likable. Which is the worst of course. He seems to carry it off well, though.”

“Yeah.” Jordan exhaled softly. “He’s… an awesome guy. You were talking about people not from around here? Ask Trevor about back home the next time you come around.” He let out a silent gasp. “You… are, I mean… we still need to rehearse, yeah? We can always do it here if we need the space.”

“That would be good, I think,” Lovett nodded, bouncing slightly on his tiptoes.

When Jordan finally turned to Lovett he couldn’t hide the smile on his face. “So, um… did you… want to come in, or… I know it’s kind of late.” It was barely ten o’clock.

Lovett looked at his watch — he still wore a watch — and did some kind of mental calculus. “Yeah,” he said with a little smile. “Sure. I’ll come in.”

“Sweet,” Jordan whispered under his breath. He opened the door and let Lovett walk inside first. He looked into the living room and saw a bunch of guys watching some ridiculous reality TV show, and in the dining room someone was doing their homework. He didn’t really want to retreat back to the practice space, and glanced up the stairs. “C’mon,” Jordan finally said. “I, uh… I’ll give you the grand tour.”

Lovett followed with the type of expression one might wear on safari. And with that Jordan kind of rushed through the house, giving details that were relatively obvious. Finally, Jordan led Lovett up to where the bedrooms were, and in that moment he was grateful that he didn’t have a roommate. Halfway up the stairs, Jordan realized that he was all alone; Lovett was still at the bottom of the stairs. Jordan turned back to him, his eyes narrowed slightly. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Lovett responded quickly. He tossed his bag back onto his shoulders and stepped back from the staircase, his eyes pulled away from Jordan. “You know, I just realized that… I should probably be getting home.”  
“Oh.” The disappointment in Jordan’s voice was thick, but he got to the bottom of the stairs and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Guess it is getting late, isn’t it.” Lovett nodded and turned to make his way back to the front door.

Again, Lovett sighed and nodded. He pulled open the door and was a little surprised when Jordan followed him out onto the front porch. “Tonight was fun.” Lovett nodded again. He slipped his hands into his pockets and rocked on the balls of his feet. “We should… do this again.”

“Absolutely,” Jordan said through a smile. He was about to say a final goodnight, but was taken completely aback when Lovett stood on his toes and pressed a quick kiss to Jordan’s cheek. The kiss was chaste and quick, and left them both speechless. Before Jordan could sat a word, Lovett ran off the porch and hopped onto his electric scooter and disappeared into the darkness.


	4. Jordan Talks To Trevor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jordan's a little confused about what's going on in his heart and his head, and after running into his best friend, tries to come to terms with everything all at once.

The campus shuttle dropped Jordan off about a block away from the fraternity house. None of the houses on the street were in disrepair by any sense of the word, especially now that all of the fraternities and sororities were trying to court new pledges. This was the time of year where they all congregated around tables in the quad and student center in an attempt to make them look desirable and presentable to the rest of the student body. Jordan, like every one of his brothers, had his letters on at all times. But as Lovett noted, Jordan was bit more subtle about it. He wore his letters in the form of a pin on his background.

“Cockatoo!”

Jordan looked up from the screen of his phone to see Trevor — who, at the age of eighteen, happened to be the president of their fraternity — carrying a cardboard box filled with recyclables from the previous weekend’s activity out to the trash bins at the end of the driveway. With a little sigh Jordan took out one earbud and nodded at Trevor.

“El Jefe.”

Trevor snickered. Jordan was the only brother who used this particular nickname, the one given to Trevor when they were both pledges. “What were you doing on campus?” he asked, a rather curious tone to his voice. There were a number of things that Trevor could have been alluding to with his question, most of which made him chuckle.

With a little snicker of his own, Jordan removed the other earbud to give Trevor his undivided attention. Actually,” he returned. “I had class.”

“Class,” Trevor hummed, the monosyllabic word humming on the tip of his tongue.

“Yep,” Jordan said with a short, affirmative nod. “I had political theory and then met with some of my fellow performers.” Trevor snickered when Jordan called his theater classmates performers. Jordan rolled his eyes. “That’s what we’re supposed to call ourselves. Another kid in the class said we should all call ourselves performers, and not just those of us in class, but every member of the human race.” Jordan let out another short laugh. “You… you remember that cat last semester who stood in the quad with that bullhorn screaming about the non-GMO fish sticks being completely GMO, or… something like that?”

Trevor narrowed his eyes so slightly, and it took him a moment to recall the incident that Jordan was talking about. “Oh!” Trevor snapped his fingers. “Ezra… something or other, right?”

“Ezra Miller,” Jordan nodded. “He’s the one who was like-“ He pretended to throw a scarf, or perhaps a cape, over his shoulder. “The world is a stage, man. We’re all just players.” Trevor laughed, more at Jordan and his impression than anything else. “Completely adrift.”

Trevor shrugged his shoulders. He dumped the recyclables in the bin, leaving the cardboard box he carried them all in on top of the bin. “Sounds… pretty typical for the drama department,” he almost reminded. “You’ve said so yourself.”

“When!” Jordan nearly shouted back. Trevor winked and turned to head back into the house. Unsatisfied with the outcome of this conversation, Jordan strode after Trevor, easy to catch up to him with his long legs. “Wait, now… now hang on, when did I ever say anything like that?” Still smiling, Trevor turned and gave Jordan another wink, a little something that infuriated Jordan. He scoffed. “Why the hell would I say something that stupid,” he commented in response to the wink. “Why… the hell would anyone say anything that stupid.”

Trevor pulled open the front door and let Jordan inside first. “Well.” Trevor paused to clear his throat. “Part of me, and this is just a tiny part of me, feels like that’s something you might say if you were, oh, trying to impress a girl.”

Jordan’s face, ears, and neck all blushed a dark, almost purple red. “Why would I try to impress some girl?” he countered, scoffing in the process. “I, I have a girlfriend.”

The four words that Trevor often heard from Jordan, which made him laugh internally every time he heard Jordan say them. “Yes, Jordy,” Trevor said with a little chuckle. “But that doesn’t mean that you can’t get your flirt on a little, especially with a girl who isn’t all the way in East Lansing, Michigan.”

“I wasn’t flirting!” Jordan said with another scoff. He turned to stand right in front of Trevor, taking an almost defensive stance. He stared down at Trevor, shaking his head in the process. “Besides, there is… one girl in that class, and she isn’t even pretty.” Jordan turned to walk away and was only a little surprised when Trevor followed him.

“Okay, so you aren’t flirting with a girl. Maybe… perhaps a boy, then?” Trevor questioned sincerely.

It took Jordan only a second to catch what Trevor was trying to tell him. His entire body trembled at the accusation. “Dude!” He grabbed Trevor’s shoulder and yanked him back. “Why the… hell would I be flirting with some… some guy?” Trevor said nothing, but shrugged his shoulders in response. “That… that’s not… I don’t…”

“You don’t… what?” Trevor folded his arms across his chest, raising an eyebrow in Jordan’s direction.  
“Nothing,” Jordan groaned. He tried to walk away but Trevor followed him up the stairs.

“Oh no you don’t,” Trevor said as he ran after Jordan. Though Jordan had incredibly long legs and could easily outrun any normal human being, Trevor also had this remarkable ability to sprint like a cheetah. He quickly caught up to Jordan, stopping him at the top of the stairs. “You’re not getting away that easily, Klepper.” Trevor nodded once. “Go ahas and finish your train of thought.”

Jordan sighed and shook his head. “No,” he exhaled. “It… it’s none of anyone’s business who you flirt with-“

“Why? Because I’m gay?” Trevor was so open, so honest about his sexuality, that it often made Jordan blush. Trevor snickered and, seeing the slight discomfort his friend was experiencing, cupped a hand around the back of Jordan’s neck. The blush his Jordan’s cheeks deepened. “It’s not like it’s some… well-kept secret, right?”

“N-no,” Jordan stammered in response.

Trevor laughed under his breath, and rubbed his thumb against Jordan’s hairline. Trevor was flirting, and perhaps making a bigger deal of it, and certainly doing so without Jordan really knowing it. “So, I mean, if I’m flirting with another guy, is it really the biggest problem in the world?”

“N-no,” Jordan returned with a little laugh. “No, I mean, I guess it isn’t… that much of a problem.” He gently nudged Trevor’s hand away and stepped around him. “It isn’t a problem. At all.”

“Just… don’t flirt with you,” Trevor commented.

“No!” Jordan said through a hearty laugh.

Trevor laughed with him. He folded his arms and leaned back against the wall. “Because I’m not your type,” he continued to comment.

“D-did-“ Jordan scoffed. “Did I say that? I didn’t… say that, Jefe. Y-you… you’re totally-“

“Not your type.” Trevor smiled with a little shrug of his shoulders. “That’s okay, Cockatoo. We’ll find your type. In fact-“ Trevor paused for a moment and felt a smirk tug at the corner of his mouth. “I’m pretty sure we’ve already got a lead on that.”

Jordan watched Trevor turn and head down the hallway. He groaned and rolled his eyes. “Wait.” He reached for Trevor’s wrist to try and stop him. “Wait, hang on there… there’s something I need to tell you.” Jordan hadn’t said anything to Trevor, his nest friend, about Lovett kissing him, and not a day went by that Jordan didn’t wonder if Trevor knew and wasn’t saying a thing.  
Smiling, Trevor dragged Jordan into his bedroom and nudged the door closed behind them. “So… what’s up?” he asked, his voice quiet and understanding.

Jordan sighed. He opened his mouth to speak several times, and several times he let out very deep breaths. “I-“ Another sigh; this was a conversation that Jordan wasn’t entirely sure he was ready to have.

But Trevor’s prompting was at the ready. “Why, Jordan Klepper.” He chuckled and took a seat on Jordan’s bed. “Are you telling me that you’ve already found your type?” Trevor wiggled his eyebrow in the process, a mien that bothered Jordan to no end, especially in this type of situation.

“Have I… what?” Jordan laughed softly and slid his fingers back through his fluffy hair. He dropped his bag by the desk and sat in the chair.

Sensing Jordan’s nervousness, Trevor was now grinning like a fool. “I’m just curious,” he started to say, unable to hide the smile on his face, even a little bit. “Have you already found your type? And, no. I am definitely… not talking about your so-called girlfriend back home.” Jordan rolled his eyes at Trevor’s comment, half-expecting some kind of retort, but instead Trevor just stared at Jordan, the silliness drained from his expression. “Absolutely not that so-called girlfriend of yours.”

Jordan sighed, and had to turn away from Trevor. “W-why… seriously? Why do you keep saying that?”

“What? That your girlfriend is so-called at best?” Trevor shrugged his shoulders. “Because I don’t think you’re serious about that. Or about any girl, really.” Jordan started to talk, but Trevor immediately stopped him. “But you aren’t ready to admit that. I get it. I totally get that.”

Jordan’s face hardened. “Trevor,” he said flatly. “What… the fuck… are you talking about?”

Trevor smirked. “Look. I know that… you need to put some kind of label on it to make it real, or something that’s been hardwired into your brain since elementary school, but I am telling you.” Trevor nodded, as if to emphasize everything he said. “Sexuality is fluid. For some people the line is blurred, and for some it’s not even there. But for everyone it’s fluid, and I think the would would benefit-“

“Trevor,” Jordan groaned, cupping both hands over his face.

“-from a little proper education on the subject.” Trevor took a deep breath, and Jordan prepared for another onslaught. “That… that’s it.”

“For now,” Jordan grumbled. This run around was exhausting, and Jordan’s head was spinning because of it. He let out an incredibly deep breath, hot against his palms, and moved to sit on the bed next to Trevor. He let out a long, angry breath. Deep down, Jordan knew what Trevor was getting at, what he was trying to get Jordan to admit to, regardless of whether or not there was any truth to it.

“So.” Trevor cleared his throat, effectively breaking the thick silence that hung between them.

“So.” Jordan returned.

Trevor let out another quiet sigh. When Jordan looked at him Trevor was all smiles, his dimples shining. He laughed; Jordan wore his pseudo-innocence like a cape. Trevor slid his arm around Jordan’s shoulders and let out a long breath. “You… aren’t going to tell me who you’ve been flirting with?”

Jordan’s eyes blushed hotly. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I, um… no,” he responded. He shook his head, as if to solidify his response. “I haven’t been flirting, I-“

“Have a girlfriend,” Trevor responded, finishing Jordan’s train of thought for him. “Yeah. I know. I’ve seen a picture, a single picture of her, and I don’t think you’ve spoken to her outside of messages on social media, public messages I might add, since you’ve gotten here.” Trevor shrugged. “She… she may as well live in Canada at this point!”

“Fuck you,” Jordan teased very lightly in return. He meant to sound serious, meant it to sound more like a kiss off than it did. “Sh-she… I told you, man, she’s-“

“At Michigan State,” Trevor hummed. “You’ve mentioned this to me, Jordan. You’ve mentioned this to… literally everyone who has asked. And… I don’t know. Some people believe you, and some people really don’t.” Trevor cleared his throat and stood from the bed. “And I am one of the people who don’t.” When Jordan glanced at Trevor he was glaring down at him with a very strange expression on his face. He slid his hands into his thigh pockets and gave his shoulders a little shrug. “I don’t believe it for a second, Jordan.”

Jordan sat up straight, almost to the point where it seemed like he had a metal rod in his back. “That’s-“ Jordan closed his eyes and let out an incredibly deep breath. “Okay.” He rubbed both hands against his knees. He looked back at Trevor, still standing in the doorway, as if he were waiting for more of an explanation from Jordan. Jordan stared at Trevor for several long moments before giving his head a shake. “Is… is that it?”  
Trevor closed his eyes and exhaled sharply, his entire body giving off the illusion that he was desperately trying to hide his anger. “No, but…” Trevor’s voice cut off, followed by another sigh. “No. Maybe someday, but… today is not that day, is it.”

“Today is not that day for what?” Jordan asked, thoroughly irritated by his friend’s inquiry. He leaned back, arms folded across his chest, in a completely defensive position.

But Trevor just clucked his tongue, and with a shake of his own head he disappeared out the door. Jordan stood from the bed and watched him head back down the hallway and down the stairs to the first floor of the house. Jordan rolled his eyes and groaned without saying a word. He stared down the hallway, cursing himself for not saying the words he’d meant to say to his best friend, cursing his best friend for knowing more about him than he himself did. But rather than chase Trevor down, rather than reaching out to have the rest of, or the beginning of, this conversation, Jordan sighed and stepped back into his bedroom, closing the door behind him.


End file.
